


down by the riverbed

by celestialbisexual



Category: Archive 81 (Podcast)
Genre: Bargains, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Typical Weirdness, F/F, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Repetition, and i ran with it, but i got a gay vibe, canon typical discussions of violence, like at all, look i know they only interacted for 20 seconds, look i know this isn't remotely plausible but i wanted it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialbisexual/pseuds/celestialbisexual
Summary: Caroline comes back to the riverbank. The Boatwoman is there, as she promised.





	down by the riverbed

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Caroline Lesta aka Suit aka My Wife. And her arc in canon is perfect and wonderful and heartbreaking I wouldn't change it for the world, but I also got like a super gay vibe when she and the Boatwoman interacted and I really wanted to run with that. 
> 
> Title is from the Fisherman's Song, from Archive 81

Caroline comes back to the riverbank. The Boatwoman is there, as she promised. The wood of her boat gleams, fresh-polished and as inviting as she can make it. 

 

Caroline does not seem to appreciate her gesture. She keeps her arms close to herself, knife still firmly affixed to her hand. It shines with fresh blood, blood that streaks up Caroline’s arm to the elbow. There is more blood on her face, its splatter distorted by tear tracks. Her tears smell of pain and rage and hatred turned inwards like a knife collapsing the cartilage of a trachea . They smell like the regret that comes after a difficult choice. They smell like the first tears shed in nearly a decade. 

 

The Boatwoman does not smile, but it is a near thing. 

 

“What… is your... destination?” The Boatwoman asks. Caroline shakes her head. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I… will wait... for your… decision.” The Boatwoman says. Caroline stares at the river, closer than is completely safe. She looks like she is considering walking into the water and abandoning herself to the mercy of the screaming souls, which would be… a waste. 

 

The Boatwoman does not offer suggestions, and yet she says,“you could... travel... in my boat... for a… period of time.”

 

Caroline looks at her, the distrust of a cornered animal in her eyes. “What’s the price?”

 

The Boatwoman does not name prices, and yet she says, “your tears... the taste of them.” 

 

Caroline snarls and for a second the Boatwoman thinks that she may be about to attempt violence upon her. A foolish proposition, but an intriguing one. 

 

Instead Caroline nods, and steps into the boat.

 

The Boatwoman takes her face in both of her long, smooth hands. Caroline flinches slightly, from the cold, or perhaps from the Boatwoman herself, but she does not pull away. She closes her eyes and allows her face to be tilted up and pulled close until she is all that the Boatwoman can see. It is very similar to the memories the Boatwoman has collected of the moments before a kiss. 

 

She gasps when the Boatwoman begins to mouth along her cheeks, collecting the salt and pain that still clings to her cheeks. A few more precious tears fall, and the Boatwoman is careful to trace their trails with her tongue, catching every drop. She will not waste any of Caroline’s precious suffering. 

 

When she is finished she kisses each of Caroline’s eyes in turn and says, “an excellent payment. You may stay… a long time.” 

 

Caroline nods and mutters her thanks. She sits down at the opposite corner of the boat, facing out towards the river with her knees tucked against her chest. 

 

They begin to move. 

 

* * *

 

“This place is an abomination.” Caroline says. Her hand is outside the boat, inches above the water. If she had fingers, they would be brushing the surface, and Caroline would likely no longer be able to speak. 

 

“Then why… did you... return?” The Boatwoman asks.

 

“Because I am an abomination too.” Caroline responds with a shrug. “This place and I are  _ suited _ to each other.”

 

She laughs bitterly, and turns back to the Boatwoman. “You’re an abomination too.”

 

The Boatwoman supposes that means Caroline is suited to her as well. 

 

* * *

 

Caroline requires fresh wrappings for her knife, so the Boatwoman trades passage to the Garden for sturdy cloth.

 

Caroline does not flinch at the touch of her hands, and it is like the memories the Boatwoman has collected of a butterfly opening its wings. 

 

She wraps the cloth securely around Caroline’s hands, and ties it off. 

 

“Will that… serve your purposes?” She asks. Caroline swings the knife in lazy arcs through the air, watching the black glint of the blade.

 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

 

“It is… no trouble.” Says the Boatwoman, which is a lie, but a small one.

 

Caroline presses the old bandages into the Boatwoman’s hands. “It’s not much, but- keep them. They have my blood, and the blood of one I killed.” 

 

“I do not… require payment.” The Boatwoman tells her. 

 

“Then it is a gift.” Caroline replies.

 

The Boatwoman does not smile, but it is a near thing.

 

* * *

 

It is weeks, probably before Caroline leaves the boat. In that time, she seldom speaks, save for the occasional reminder that this place is an abomination. The Boatwoman wonders who she is reminding.

 

Sometimes she sings. Sometimes the Boatwoman joins her.

 

She is a pleasant companion, and when she disembarks with her other passengers at the Goblin Market, it is like the memories the Boatwoman has collected of a casket being covered with dirt. 

 

Except.

 

Except she returns at nightfall, a new cloak draped around her shoulders and a sturdy sheath for her knife. She shows the Boatwoman how she can call the blade back and forth with a flick of her wrist. 

 

She moves to step into the boat, but the Boatwoman blocks her path. Caroline looks at her, confusion and hurt in her eyes.

 

The Boatwoman tells her. “Our bargain... was complete... when you left the boat. If you… wish to… return… we will need... to make a new bargain.”

 

“I don’t feel much like crying, Boatwoman.” Caroline says. 

 

“I will accept… a different payment.” The Boatwoman replies. “I leave it’s… form… to you.” 

 

They regard each other for a long moment, and then Caroline smiles, slow and satisfied, like she’s solved a riddle. 

 

“Let me bide with you awhile,” she says, “And I’ll give you a kiss.”

“That would be… sufficient payment.” The Boatwoman says, and leans down until her face is inches from Caroline’s, until Caroline is all she can see. 

 

Caroline cups the Boatwoman’s face between her palms, careful not to let the knife scratch her. She closes her eyes and leans forwards, presses her lips to the Boatwoman’s own. 

 

The Boatwoman knows kissing, has witnessed it often enough, lived it through other people’s memories. 

 

None of it could have prepared her for this. 

 

Caroline is gentle with her, so gentle. Her lips are chapped, her palms rough against the Boatwoman’s face, but she’s soft inside, and tastes of salt water and blood. 

 

When she pulls back, Caroline is flushed and breathing hard, her lips red and swollen. The Boatwoman runs one finger over them. The Boatwoman does not smile, but it is a near thing.

 

“That is… an excellent payment.”

 

* * *

 

Caroline does not pay much mind to the passengers, as a general rule. In the beginning she had regarded them with the same suspicious disdain she had for the rat creature, for anything that would willingly consort with a creature like the Boatwoman. She used to regard her reflection in the water in much the same way.

 

These days she mostly ignores them, saving her disdain only for the ones who do not pay their fares, and so when she sits bolt upright and draws her cloak tight around herself at the sight of this newest passenger bargaining for safe passage across the river, the Boatwoman knows that something is different. 

 

“What the fuck do you want? My fucking firstborn?” The passenger shouts. “The keys to my house, a motherfucking golden fiddle, the memory of the first dude I ever fucked?” 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, the Boatwoman sees Caroline nod slightly. 

 

“That would… suffice.” The Boatwoman tells her, though she would not usually have taken so paltry a meal. The passenger swears as she takes the memory, and a quick glance at it reveals that she swore through most of that, too. The Boatwoman is grateful her journey will be a short one.

 

The passenger settles into the boat, with a barked order for the Boatwoman not to “waste anymore of my goddamn motherfucking time.” 

 

She’s so wrapped up in herself that it takes her nearly half the journey to even notice Caroline, still tucked up in her cloak near the Boatwoman’s feet. 

 

“What the fuck’s your deal? Why didn’t you have to pay?” She demands, sneering at Caroline.

 

“I already paid.” Caroline says, and the Boatwoman can see a hungry wolf shifting beneath her skin. “Nine fingers. Not my own.” 

 

The passenger gapes. “Holy fucking shit. You’re the Suit, the broken one. I heard you went psycho and fucking offed Davenport. Shit. Motherfucker. Hey! Hey- bargain bin Charon, you have to keep this crazy fucking bitch away from me, she’s fucking-”

 

“You were… promised… safe passage.” The Boatwoman reminds her, and the passenger subsides, though she spends the rest of the ride watching Caroline warily, and muttering insults directed at both her and the Boatwoman. 

 

The boat reaches the opposite shore and the passenger stands hastily, nearly stumbles in her haste to leave the boat. 

 

As soon as the former passenger is out, Caroline stands smoothly and begins to follow her, matching the former passenger’s pace three steps behind. 

 

“Shoo, Yeller, I don’t fucking want you anymore.” The former passenger snaps, picking up her pace. Caroline follows suit, cloak snapping in the wind. “What the fu- Hey! Boat bitch, you said I’d be  _ safe _ !” 

 

“Only until… you cross… the river.” The Boatwoman says. The former passenger stops dead, gaze darting between Caroline and the Boatwoman. Then she begins to run.

 

Caroline is faster. 

 

* * *

 

Caroline stands at the riverbank, drenched in blood, grinning, beautiful. 

 

“What’s the cost to come aboard?” She asks.

 

The Boatwoman smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god please comment


End file.
